His brows furrowed. ‘What’re these things on your ba—’
‘Gotta run,’ Rory said brightly.
He took off again, sprinting at full pelt. The overcoat and boots got tossed along the way, allowing his spines and fins to flap in the air. He veered away from the harbour, out of Graham’s sight, and leapt over the cliff into the sea.
The water welcomed him home. Rory’s gills flared. His fins snapped to attention. Propelled by ferocious purpose, Rory oriented himself towards the Minch and began his desperate race to find Fionn.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The region around the palace was crowded with Minchmen. Word had gotten round of the impending wedding and near enough all the Blue King’s subjects had turned out for a glimpse of the Redfolk strangers. Not that they were likely to get one, as the palace itself was heavily guarded by Iomhar’s warriors.
‘Make way,’ Iomhar rumbled, parting the throng of curious Bluefolk to create a path for Fionn. Some craned their necks to see him, leaving him feeling even more like a decoration on parade.
A sleek grey shape jostled through the crowd and broke into the water in front of Iomhar.
‘Acha!’ Fionn cried. She dived at him for a whiskery hug.
‘Some decorum, Your Highness,’ Iomhar said into Fionn’s ear.
Fionn scratched Acha’s head before letting go. ‘She is coming in with me.’
‘You will be parted from her as soon as you enter,’ Iomhar warned, but beckoned them both to continue toward the palace.
Yet another familiar shape separated from the crowd. Neacel lunged for Fionn, yanking him to a stop. Iomhar spun with a knife at the ready.
‘What are you doing, child?’ he huffed angrily at Neacel. ‘You cannot approach the prince at this time.’
Fionn seized the knife, lowering Iomhar’s arm. ‘He is my friend. Allow me to say goodbye, would you?’
Iomhar blinked twice, casting a surprised glance at Neacel. ‘Very well.’
Neacel’s face was clouded with anxiety. ‘What’s happening, Fionn? They say the Redfolk are here. Does Rory know? What’s the plan?’
It took all of Fionn’s strength not to break down and envelop Neacel in a devastated hug. ‘Rory is not coming, Neacel.’
Oh, no. It was heartbreaking all over again to watch the understanding dawn across Neacel’s earnest features.
Iomhar growled at a cluster of Minchmen straying too close and shooed them away. ‘Rory is your human, I presume? Perhaps you can have this discussion elsewhere.’
Fionn pulled Neacel close enough to hear a whisper. He feared his sorrow would taint the whole ocean if he sang it too loudly. ‘The soul bond was a lie, Neacel. Rory is part Redfolk. Our bond was simply a reaction to the curse. To my betrothal. An accident.’
Neacel recoiled. ‘Part… part Redfolk? How… ?’
Fionn shushed Neacel quickly. ‘I have broken the bond. It is all reset and I can marry my intended.’
‘But you don’t want to—’
‘That is not the point.’
‘But you love him!’ Neacel cried, pushing Fionn back. ‘Don’t tell me you have thrown it all away because of this!’
‘It was all a lie, Neacel. We were manipulated by the bond. I had to cut it to set us both free.’
The water shimmered with Fionn’s grief. Neacel’s gills flared, tasting the depths of his anguish. His eyes narrowed. ‘Do you love him still?’
‘It’s irrelevant how I feel now,’ Fionn mumbled.
‘It is not.’ Neacel shot up into his face, brows and mouth scrunched in a way he no doubt intended to be assertive, but had the same effect as a baby seal trying to be threatening. ‘Remember what I told you, Fionn. At least be honest with yourself.’
